𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕜

somewhere above nothing, but miles below ok

(A/N): The title is from a song in the LUCIDS series created by Nicholas Podany, which I highly encourage you to check out! It's free to watch on YouTube, and is very short.

Anyhow, hope you enjoy reading!

————

He leaned forward, a hand gently rising to the dark circles just under his eye. They were normal, he tried to reason, only natural when you spend most of the night trying to work on your next big pitch. Nothing a little make-up couldn't fix.

Still...

Just knowing they were there made his stomach churn and a heavy weight settle in his chest. It was another reminder that he was aging, that soon, he'd have no choice but to give up his career once someone better came along.

"They wanted me to host the show. You only got the job because I said no!"

He couldn't help recall the harsh words, causing a grimace to escape him as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. That couldn't have been true, though, he reassured. The words were said out of anger, that's all. The show wouldn't be the same without him.

Would it?

His thoughts were quickly interrupted as the all too familiar theme song filled the bathroom. He glared down at the source of the noise, picking up the phone, silently praying it wasn't the producers or Courtney's lawyer's as he answered the call.

"McLean here," he muttered, not bothering to mask the exhaustion in his voice.

"Well, don't you sound like a ray of sunshine, Christopher."

As soon as the voice registered in his brain, he couldn't help but wish it had been the producers or Courtney's lawyer's—anyone else that wasn't her. He winced at the use of his full name, hating the ugly memories it brought back, "What do you want, Blaineley?"

There was a brief pause as her muffled voice responded to someone on the other end of the phone, "Cutting to the chase, because I know how very busy you are," her voice dripped with sarcasm, only for it to fall into the quiet lull he recognized from their childhood, the tone she'd reserved just for their little group, "Don and I were wondering if you wanted to have dinner together."

Chris hummed, gaze focused on the drain in his bathroom sink, as if it held the right answer to give.

There was a beat of silence before Blaineley spoke up once more, "For your Birthday," she clarified.

"Oh, is that it?" he muttered under his breath, making a mental note to call his mother later on, "Fine, sure," he said, dully, "Just—"

She quickly cut in, before he had the chance to finish what he was saying, "No gifts," she reassured.

He couldn't help the light pull at the corner of his lips, "Right. Usual place?"

"Usual place, eight o'clock."

Without so much as a goodbye, he hung up the phone, tossing it back on the counter, attention focusing on his reflection in the mirror, the dark circles that never seemed to go away, the faint hints of gray hidden in his hair. He sighed, long, heavy.

Forty-three... Forty-three. Forty-fucking-three.

"Shit..."

+

He stared at his phone screen, thumb hovering over the call button. He knew he should call his mom, but he also didn't want to, because she'd start talking about his father and it would all just fall downhill from there.